Love Me Tonight
by sweetdreams-sunnymornings
Summary: In Sizzling Sixteen, Stephanie muses about Ranger's other women. He must have some, right? The man has a life?  Mercenary Ranger, back in the day. R & S HEA / babe. Series of one shots.
1. Chapter 1 Marie

A**/N: **BABE! R & S Happily ever after! ****

**In _Sizzling Sixteen_, Stephanie muses abut Ranger's other women. He must have some, right? The man has a life? So this was a response to a writing group challenge to write about Ranger's "Other Women". The Ranger here is my Mercenary Ranger, see my other fics if you're confused or need to know more.**

**I am posting it as a one-shot** but there are other vignettes in my series [always R & S HEA), so ...? And it appears tonight because the next book is coming out soon, will Ranger move on? Or?

And because even tho it isn't the Fourth of July, today was a perfect summer holiday day at the beach. Enjoy!

**Standard fanfic disclaimers apply; including to thanks to The Boss (Springsteen) for publishing his lyrics online.**

This is for us, T! enjoy

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><p>This story references <strong>Madame Marie<strong> who is in **a song by Bruce Springsteen, Fourth of July Asbury Park (Sandy**)...Complete lyrics are at the end of the story.

"...you can see 'em dressed like stars in all the cheap little seashore bars

Well the cops finally busted Madame Marie for tellin' fortunes better than they do  
>This boardwalk life for me is through<br>You know you ought to quit this scene too  
>Sandy the aurora is risin' behind us<br>The pier lights our carnival life forever

Love me tonight for I may never see you again..."

_Fourth of July, Asbury Park_

_._

_.  
><em>

**Other Women: Marie**

**.**

**[Marie pov]**

**Hot Saturday night, the seaside boardwalk in Perth Amboy, New Jersey.** I am sitting in my booth reading fortunes for drunk tourists and starry-eyes teenagers. Here on the boardwalk I am known as Madame Marie, the gypsy woman.

There's a bit of a stir on the main drag, and a man walks into the arcade. He is excruciatingly handsome, dressed in black combats and an old grey t-shirt that says ARMY. His hair is cut very short but he still wears large diamond ear studs. His weapons are invisible but I know they are somewhere on his beautiful body. His eyes are shadowed, his aura is - extreme.

Figuratively and literally. Both. All.

Ranger. From thirty feet away, we lock eyes, and the bustle of the crowd fades to nothing around us.

Okay I'm a psychic but it doesn't take ESP to know the boy is finally in love.

I remember meeting this man, all those years ago. He had a different name then, but I'd never tell. He was with a bunch of other young soldiers, having a night out before deployment.

He was so beautiful, well, he still is - though he's now even bigger and tougher and colder. Our eyes met then too through the drawn-aside beaded curtains of my fortune telling booth. The others jostled him aside and one by one I took their ten dollars and promised them they'd be rich and live forever.

He was last. He dropped a ten dollar bill in front of my crystal ball and said, "I'll catch up with you guys later." We were left alone.

I didn't take his hand. The silence dragged out, then I asked, "You can see?"

"Sometimes."

"But precognition is not your main talent..."

"No."

I waited.

"But I know they won't all be rich or live forever," he added.

I shrugged. "Should I give you a reading?"

"No. But..." His eyes enjoyed my body, lingered on my low-cut gypsy blouse. "After your shift, can I buy you a beer?"

I gently shoved the ten dollar bill back across the table. He picked it up and stuffed it in his pocket. "Sure, soldier."

... ... ...

**Later...**

**His almost black eyes swept over me.** It was midnight and the boardwalk was black and silent except for the seabirds still calling overhead. He said, "You look different."

I had changed into shorts and a tank top, sandals. I shrugged. "I'm not always a gypsy fortune teller."

"No? What, then"

_A college grad student, a single mother, a cocktail waitress, whoever I had to be for myself and my daughter to survive._ "A woman." I trailed a hand down his shoulder, brushed across his rock hard abs, rested on his belt buckle.

He said, "Under the boardwalk?" Faint skepticism in his voice.

"Oh please, that's an urban myth. Come to my booth, there's a lovely sofa...and no sand."

At dawn he rolled away from me and silently dressed in his oddly unmarked military uniform. I sat and watched him, winding my long curly black hair into a knot to cool my sweaty throat. He said quietly, "I know I'm one of the ones who will come back, Marie."

"I'll be here-" I said, using the name he gave me in a secret whisper. I'm a psychic, secrets and lies have little meaning in my world.

I smiled at him then and again many times over the years since, when he appeared in my booth on hot summer nights. And I smiled at him now. I didn't need ESP to know he'd come tonight to say farewell. His loyalty now was the sole property of the woman he loved. She owned him, heart and soul.

He didn't ask if we could stay friends. Of course we could. Would.

The man called Ranger gave me a faint smile, an even fainter nod, and turned away. In seconds the crowd swallowed him up, as if he had never been. As if, perhaps, he was never real.

_Be careful. I love you._

I refuse to cry. I think, _Maybe he'll be back? Someday?_

_**the end**_

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><p><em><strong>Fourth of July: Asbury Park (Sandy) by Bruce Springsteen<strong>_

Sandy the fireworks are hailin' over Little Eden tonight  
>Forcin' a light into all those stoned-out faces left stranded on this Fourth of July<br>Down in town the circuit's full with switchblade lovers so fast so shiny so sharp  
>And the wizards play down on Pinball Way on the boardwalk way past dark<br>And the boys from the casino dance with their shirts open like Latin lovers along the shore  
>Chasin' all them silly New York girls<p>

**Sandy the aurora is risin' behind us  
>The pier lights our carnival life forever<br>Love me tonight for I may never see you again  
><strong>Hey Sandy girl

Now the greasers they tramp the streets or get busted for trying to sleep on the beach all night  
>Them boys in their spiked high heels ah Sandy their skins are so white<br>And me I just got tired of hangin' in them dusty arcades bangin' them pleasure machines  
>Chasin' the factory girls underneath the boardwalk where they promise to unsnap their jeans<br>And you know that tilt-a-whirl down on the south beach drag  
>I got on it last night and my shirt got caught<br>And that Joey kept me spinnin' I didn't think I'd ever get off

Oh Sandy the aurora is risin' behind us  
>The pier lights our carnival life on the water<br>Runnin' down the beach at night with my boss's daughter  
>Well he ain't my boss no more Sandy<p>

Sandy, the angels have lost our desire for us  
>I spoke to 'em just last night and they said they won't set themselves on fire for us anymore<br>Every summer when the weather gets hot they ride that road down from heaven on their Harleys they come and they go  
><strong>And you can see 'em dressed like stars in all the cheap little seashore bars parked making love with their babies out on the Kokomo<strong>  
><strong>Well the cops finally busted Madame Marie for tellin' fortunes better than they do<strong>  
><strong>This boardwalk life for me is through<strong>  
><strong>You know you ought to quit this scene too<strong>

**Sandy the aurora's rising behind us, the pier lights our carnival life forever**  
>Oh love me tonight and I promise I'll love you forever<p>

Copyright © 1973 Bruce Springsteen (ASCAP)


	2. Chapter 2 Kate

**Ranger's Other Women: Kate**

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><p>A<strong>N: **BABE! R & S Happily ever after! ****

****One shot series****

**In _Sizzling Sixteen_, Stephanie muses about Ranger's other women. He must have some, right? The man has a life? So this was a response to a writing group challenge to write about Ranger's "Other Women". The Ranger here is my Mercenary Ranger, see my other fics if you're confused or need to know more.**

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><p><strong>Kate<strong>

**.**

**I stood at the kitchen sink**, watching, listening. Happy yells and laughter.

Ric performed a major league quality windup and very gently tossed the plastic whiffle ball to my daughter Adrienne. The yellow ball lobbed past her and rolled on the grass. My daughter gamely ran after, lined up the plastic bat and gave the ball a good hard whack.

The ball sailed into the pool, much to the hoots and hollers of my two boys Adam and Matthew Jr., aged ten and eight. Adrienne was only six and her little body slumped as the boys ran after the ball, jumping into the pool with huge loud splashes.

Ric watched them for an instant then came to my little one and gave her a hug. Through the window screen I could hear him quietly saying, "Good tee shot, chica. Maybe we'll buy you some golf clubs for your birthday?"

Adrienne hugged him back but said, "No! I want to be a baseball player, Uncle Ric! Throw the ball again!"

"Maybe later. Go cool off and have a swim, baby. I'm going to go see if your mom needs help with the hotdogs."

"Yay! We're hungry!" yelled my boys.

Ric watched Adrienne for a moment then made eye contact with me to be sure I was watching her. Ric Manoso is nothing if not a careful man.

That's why the death of my husband Matt had hit him so hard. They'd been on a mission together, I never knew any details. Probably Ric was in command, Matt always treated Ric with deference and respect. But Matt never came home.

In the years since, Ric made a point of visiting me—us. Of being a part of my kids' life. He came in the fall and put in the storm windows, he helped us carry in the Christmas tree, he taught the kids to throw a ball, swing a bat.

And sometimes he stayed late and kept my bed from being the loneliest place in the world.

Now he stood behind me at the sink and I leaned back into his hard chest. His arms came around me, hugged me against him. He smelled pleasantly of chlorine and sweat and hot summer days and I pressed back against him with more enthusiasm. His lips brushed my neck below my ear and I shivered.

"Anything I can do here, Kate?" Only light innuendo, but it made me smile.

"Not right now," I answered.

... ... ...

**Later the dishes were done,** Adrienne was asleep, tucked into her little white four poster bed; my boys were glued to video games in their rooms. I could hear the faint whiz-bang-pow of their computers' audio.

I smiled at Ric and asked, "Can you stay awhile?"

"Kate. You know I care about you, right?"

"Sure, Ric, I love you too."

"And the kids—Matt's kids—they're important to me. I'll always be there for them...college funds, soccer practice, just call me."

"That sounds kind of—final, Ric." My heart clenched. I wasn't in love with this beautiful man. He was younger than me, and seemed so lonely, so solitary, so—free. But I did love him. And I loved the intimate moments we stole after the kids were sound asleep.

"I met someone awhile ago, Kate, a few years, actually. She's ..." He frowned a little, made a tiny gesture with his hands.

"Shhhh." I touched a finger to his perfect lips to stop him. "I get it."

He smiled behind my finger and I pulled away. He said, "Sometimes I don't think I do, Kate. Get it, I mean. She's..."

I reached out and took his hand. "You love her?"

Miniscule nod.

I said, "Be happy. Don't be a stranger."

We stood and he hugged me one last time. He didn't say goodbye, he simply vanished. As the door quietly closed behind him I whispered to the empty room. "Be careful. I love you."

And I shed the tears I hadn't cried for Matt.

_**the end**_


	3. Chapter 3 Rita

Standard fanfic disclaimers for this chapter and all in series, in case I forgot to say that!

**Ranger's Other Women **

**.**

**a/n **This takes during** High Five **when** Ranger kisses Stephanie for the first time. He **asks her what she thinks about exploring their growing attraction** and she says she thinks it would be a bad idea. **(As opposed to grabbing him and dragging him up to her bed, like any sane or normal woman would, LOL.)

**a/n 2 **Spanish is translated in brackets within the text.

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><p><strong>The Third Woman: Rita<strong>

**.**

**.**

_[Ranger]_

**She had a lot of muscles** for a little five foot nothing Latina chick.

_Man, look at those cute biceps_, I thought.

"Buy you another?" I asked, nodded my head towards the frozen margarita she had gulped down in a couple slurps.

"Okay, _lindo_, I could use it." [handsome]

I held up two fingers, caught the bartender's eye. In a few seconds another shot of tequila and her margarita appeared in front of us.

I said, "Tough day?"

"Oh yeah. Job sucks but it pay good."

"What do you do?" As long as she wasn't a bounty hunter, it was cool with me.

"I drive a front loader forklift at the Wal-Mart warehouse in South Orange. It's a union job, pays a lot more than cleaning offices or some shit like that."

I must have registered surprise. She snorted and said, "What? A big macho guy like you don't think a woman can drive an industrial vehicle?"

The carefully enunciated phrase _industrial vehicle_ made me smile and she sucked in a breath, looked me over more closely. I said, "No, I'm used to seeing women drive fortified humvees and trucks in the military."

"That what you do? You a soldier?"

Oh. Um...I cursed the four or so shots of tequila I downed just now. Mentoring Stephanie Plum can be hard on a man's nerves, even my famous nerves of steel. I shrugged and used the famous crappy line, "I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you."

It didn't go over so great as a pickup line. I guess it works better in my own, ah, social circle, where we all get the joke. To recover, I held out a hand and said, "Frederick Rodriguez," introducing myself. Sort of.

Her callused little hand slid into mine and we shook. She said, "Rita Gutierrez. Where ya from, soldier?"

"Not _Soldier_, Rita. Call me Frederick."

"Or Freddy?"

_If she must..._

"So answer the question: where you from, Freddy?"

I rummaged through my brain, where the fuck _was_ my alter ego Freddy Rodriguez from? I said, "My family is Puerto Rican, mostly, but I was born and raised in..." I almost said The Bronx but I wasn't sure I could produce and maintain a Bronx accent while drinking tequila shots..."Jersey City."

"Oh yeah? My _Tia_ lives there, on Liberty Avenue near the park. Not a great neighborhood, but..." [aunt]

She did a pretty little shrug that accentuated her pert breasts in the thin white tank top. No bra.

I grinned and said, "Not great but it's home, yeah, I know how it is."

"Me, I'm from Newark," Rita told me.

Oh thank god I hadn't said I was Carlos Manoso from Newark.

I ordered another round and we chatted. Well, she talked, I looked at her chest. Finally she caught me out and grinned, giving me a playful bump on the arm.

"You wanna come home with me, handsome? Take a closer look?"

"I..."

"You don't have to worry, you use a condom and we can have some fun. No strings."

I looked into her very pretty, very hopeful big brown eyes and all I could see was Stephanie's blue eyes filling with tears earlier tonight, as she handed me the remaining fragments of the day-old BMW I gave her. All I could feel was her lips under mine and her voice saying, "I think it would be a bad idea."

Stephanie and me- - -a bad idea? God, I hoped not, because I was pretty sure that I, tough as nails Ranger Manoso, was falling in love.

I said, "I gotta go," and I strode out of Shorty's as fast as I could, trying to look cool, to be _Ranger,_ Rita's hissed, "_Pendejo,_ " followed me out the grubby door. [asshole/ jerk]

From the safety of my Porsche I dialed a contact and ordered yet another car for Steph. A Mercedes. This time.

the end


	4. Chapter 4 Sue

**SPOILERS**

**.**

**SPOILERS**

**.**

**SPOILERS**

**.a/n: This is a goofy riff on Smokin' 17. I think even if you haven't read it yet it will makes sense, of sorts. I'll put a few notes at the end to explain a little , that way it won't be a spoiler, much. **

**BUT: POSSIBLE SPOILERS for SMOKIN' SEVENTEEN. if you care, pls don't read! **

**Standard fanfic disclaimer apply**

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><p><strong>The Woman in the Silver Jeep Sue**

**.**

_Early July 2011. Trenton NJ_

_[Ranger]_

**After the Scrog fiasco you'd think I'd have gotten smarter**. More aware of my surroundings so to speak.

Okay maybe I was distracted by Stephanie and the vordo thing. (Thank you, Bella, bless you, Bella).

No, not _Twilight_ Bella, Morelli's crazed Grandma Bella.

The vordo effects had me so bemused I don't think I'd have noticed if my Cayenne blew up right under my ass. I mean...Steph? in that alley? In the 911? Even I broke into a sweat with that move.

So today Tank and I are rolling down Stark Street, eyes open for a hint of Nick Alpha or the freed fighting roosters.

"Cocks," says Tank, or Hank as he is currently known. ''We're looking for _cocks_?"

We both freeze a little and a silence plays out. Then I say, "Let's go with _roosters_, man."

''Ten four, boss.''

I am listening to Tank/ Hank - though really, what all does he say? - and looking for our quarries but mostly I am watching my rearview mirrors, eyeing a woman in a silver Jeep who seems to be following us. Me. She's tailing _me?_ She pulls up behind my Cayenne at the corner of Stark and Hamilton. The Jeep has tinted windows but I can see she is Caucasian, of no particular age. Messy ponytail and bangs, dark glasses. Bare shoulders. I now realize I've seen her around all week and I am pretty sure her shoulders seem bare because she is wearing only a miniscule red-white-and blue bikini.

Wonder Woman on drugs?

I am sure I saw her yesterday. And the day before. My nerves tighten, I am rapidly moving toward high alert.

The light changes and we roll. I pull forward and try to get her license plate number. Battered licence plate holders that say "Respect the Beach" and "SurfRider Foundation" obscure the details but I am deciding it is an older white and navy NY plate when Tank speaks up. "You hungry, boss?''

I ignore him. He waits a beat then, "So, when do we eat, man? That health food place you like is just around the corner on Mercer, if you make a left..."

Instead I pull a fast right on a yellow, onto Parker. I'm not fast enough and the silver jeep follows.

"Shit."

"Wha...?" mumbles Tank. (Hank?)

I go around the block then back down Stark, pull into Cluck in the Bucket.

Tank cringes a little. He's not as careful as I am but he doesn't usually eat grease-soaked chicken parts either.

I say to him, "You're hungry? How about failure for lunch?"

"Wha...?"

"With a side order of unemployment! You're getting fat and lazy, man, too much desk time," I hiss.

"Fat?" Tank looks down at his admirable eight pack abs and muscular thighs. Not an ounce of fat, the guy is just huge.

I grab his shoulder. "Look." I point discreetly. "We've been tailed all week by that woman in that jeep and you never noticed."

"I noticed. But, well, you know. Women follow you around all the time, boss."

_That is so not true._

I glare. "Go in and order something. Anything. Maybe she'll follow you."

"Why me?

"Just do it!"

Tank heaves a sigh and gets out. The jeep which was idling a few spaces behind us pulls into a parking slot. The woman gets out. Yes, it's her! She is, as always, dressed in the bikini that appears to made from an American flag. With the bikini she is wearing ratty old UGGs, very surfer girl. She is walking hunched over a little, rubbing the backs of her thighs. They must have been stuck to the Jeep's black leather seats.

I move fast and cut her off, looming up from the back fender of my Porsche. Her head jerks up and she stares. She's frozen, maybe three feet away from me. She's tall but I am much bigger and I stand over her menacingly. I say, "You again! You're tailing me? Why?"

Her mouth opens, no words come out.

"What do I have to do, get a restraining order?"

Finally she stutters, "Oh! Omigod, you're real."

?

"Oooh. You did the eyebrow twitch. Awesome."

"Who the hell are you?"

"Oh My God. You're so hot, you really are. You're beautiful. Wow."

"Who the fuck are you!"

"Oh! Oh, I am like such a fan. You know? I'm Suzy, my name is Suzy...well, it's Susan Jones but you don't need to know that!...And, um, well, I was on the beach a couple days ago, just reading your latest, well, _her_ latest, but there you were! And here you are!"

"What?"

"Oh, wow. The new book? I got it on my Kindle! And! Well. Good for you. That is all I have to say about _that!_ And well I wish it was _me_ not Stephanie but..."

"What's up, boss? I got the chicken breast nuggets extra crispy...Who's this?" Tank has returned.

I shrug. "No clue." I add in Spanish_,__"Esta mujer está fucking loca."_

_T_he woman was still babbling. "You know, every June I get so hopeful. Oh sure after **_Nine_**, which was fucking awful - you're not in it so it's not your fault! Well I stopped reading! Like totally. But then I got **_Eleven _**at a yard sale and totally reconnected. Read **_Ten._** Your place sounds awesome, but, uh - no underwear, what's with that? Doesn't your ass get cold in the winter? And what about...? Oh nevermind!"

Tank and I stare at her.

"And I am not fucking crazy, geez. I'm from New York, I know that much Spanish, cutie."

"Boss...," mumbles Tank, who is pretty sure I don't like being called _cutie._

The woman is in her zone though, rambling on, "Then **_Twelve_**..." She heaves a big sigh; her boobs almost pop out of the bikini top which has one blue and white stars boob and one red and white stripe boob. Butt cheeks are similarly defined. Maybe the worst bikini I have ever seen. And that is hard because a pretty girl in a tiny swimsuit should be good.

"...So anyway, I like never give up. I guess I never will. As long as she doesn't rehire Alex to do the writing, Janet can copy and paste, use ghostwriters, whatever. But the legend is forever.''

"Uh, okay." Tank and I start to back away.

"Look!" she says suddenly. She pulls her bikini bottoms away and exposes her hip. Enclosed in a red heart tattoo with roses and shit, in black swirly writing it says, _"One Ranger is All You'll ever Need."_

Tank shudders. He tugs on my arm (not my gun hand/ arm, but still...), whispers, "Carlos! Let's go, my lunch is getting cold."

I shake my head. "Lady. You're mistaken. I'm not..." I wave a hand at her ass cheek.

She smiles at me.

I add, ''Give up. Go home.''

Her face falls. She nods sadly. "I'll go home but I'll never stop hoping."

Tank and I hit the road. _Fast._

_the end_

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><p><strong>SPOILER NOTES: At one point Ranger says ''I'll tell HANK'' when I think he means ''Tank'', lol. JE forgot Tank! who is not in the book at all! Sigh. I love Tank.<strong>

**Nick Alpha is a bad man who runs cockfighting games.**

**Vordo has an effect on Stephanie, quite OOC, in my opinion, but - a good thing?**

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><p><strong>Suzy is me, yes, it's a mary sue fic of sorts. (a mary sue fic is when a fanfiction writer inserts herself into the story). I do NOT have a Ranger tattoo. No! I don't. Reeally. This isn't exactly a Ranger's women short but I thought it fit in. sort of? enjoy!<strong>


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